His First Bow
by SerHolmes
Summary: When John Watson grows interested in Sherlock Holmes' past, he finds out it is not a pleasant one.


**His First Bow**

It was times like this that feeds the temptation for questions of the past, the past of Sherlock Holmes. Earlier today, we were called upon a mystery in an apartment similar to that of ours along Baker Street. This mystery was then followed up by a murder of the landlord and to our surprise, Mycroft Holmes was there attending to an official affair of the government. It was scarcely three minutes later that Holmes has decided to shut this case. "History was never of your interest, Mycroft." Holmes pointed out as he stood by the body and gazed down on it.

"Indeed, Sherlock. However, doesn't this case ring a bell in your mind?" Mycroft smiled. "Fret not, little brother, I will inform Scotland Yard to bring in the murderer."

It was not the first that Mycroft has hinted this, the first was last week when he paid a visit to us for Christmas. It came to us as a surprise since it was the first time that the Holmes family visited us from Sussex. Unlike all natural beings, Holmes decided to sit on his armchair and play a tune I recognize as Bach's Channone, Partita No. 2 on the violin while everyone else was conversing. "A transitional bow. Quite a choice, Sherlock." Mycroft mentioned. Everyone including Holmes stopped and stared at Mycroft, I however was baffled by the reaction to that statement. "What seems to be the matter?" I asked. Just as Sherrinford opened his mouth, Holmes hastily broke in "Nothing, Watson. My brother likes to jest as much as he likes to lick the feet of our king."

"Holmes, we don't have a king." I reminded him. He ignored me and put his violin on his neck and gave it a stare. Holmes' mother then said "Well, we must get going now.", they headed out and Mycroft said "Nobody wants to tell you this but it's time to grow up, Sherlock. No more hiding." Holmes stood up and proceeded to play Auld Lang Syne. The grandfather clock chimed as I shut the door, "Happy New Year, Watson." Holmes told me while I stood by the door pondering on what had happened. It was the next morning when I asked Holmes what Mycroft meant, "You should never worry yourself with such trivial matters, Watson. It disrupts the mind." He responded.

Three days later, we received a letter from Mycroft which I consciously handed to Holmes. He put the letter aside as soon as it reached his hand, "Why, that's a letter for you, Holmes." I directed to him. "I know." He replied.

"Well, why don't you read it?" I queried.

"Mycroft should mind his own business as he always has." He retorted. I was puzzled, what did he mean? Now, four days had passed and I am to provide my theory to my companion. We arrived back at 221B and Holmes hanged his coat when I said "Holmes, I have a theory."

"Interesting, pray tell." He responded as he sat on his armchair.

"Something happened in the past, a murder perhaps. This murder involved a violin bow and you, Holmes." I asserted.

Holmes lit his pipe, "I see. Astonishing theory, Watson. You are a quick study."

"So I am right then?"

"Quite. I would tell you to dismiss this matter but it is in your nature to ignore my sentiments." He held his pipe and pointed to my armchair, "Take a seat then, Watson. This is what you wanted, the case that started it all." I sat down on my armchair and looked at Holmes as he started, "Back when I was seven, we had a Christmas meeting with a colleague of my fathers. "Don't be up with your schemes when we get there" he told us, little did we know, someone else was up with their scheme as we were on our way to our destination."

"The murder." I noted.

Holmes nodded and continued, "We arrived a little past nine on that chilly night, my father knocked on the door and heard feet trampling towards the door. With a quick and forced pull, a man opened the door, "Holmes! What are you doing here?" he inquired. "Hurst invited me." My father replied. Sherrinford looked at the man and asked, "Did something horrible happen, mister?". The man glanced at us and back at my father, "It's Miss Hurst, she… she's gone." My father was bewildered, he stood there silent, eyes wide open. The man then said "We… Allen… Jacobs, we just arrived and she…"

"Died?" Sherrinford said.

"Hush, Sherrinford." My mother demanded. My father finally blinked and said, "Can I see the body? Close her eyes out of respect." The man agreed. My father went in and unbeknownst to everyone else, Sherrinford and Mycroft snuck in. As my father reached out to shut the eyes of Miss Hurst, Sherrinford came out of a room at the back, "Stop, father. Do not touch the victim's body."

"This is not the time for games, Sherrinford." My father retorted with anger.

"We have three suspects, father." Mycroft said as he came out of the room, "The man standing by the door and the two gentlemen around the body who I believe are Allen and Jacobs. All unmarried."

"Stop with this tomfoolery, Mycroft!" My father stood up and walked towards them. The three gentlemen tried to stop my father from acting violently and attempted to calm him down. Mother and I walked in to this big furnished household with candles lighting the place up and Sherrinford said that nobody but our mother should leave and inform the bobbies. My father apologized to the man who opened the door saying, "I apologize for the behavior of my children, Thompson.". The man named Jacobs then said "Lad, what did you mean when you called us suspects?"

"I meant what I said, the three of you are suspects to the murder of Miss Hurst." Sherrinford implied. "Murder?" Thompson asked. "Miss Hurst could not have possibly murdered herself, blood is flowing out her and there is no weapon or tool near the body or in her hand." With that in my mind, I got down from the chair and ran towards the body to have a better look, in five seconds, I found the wound where the blood flow originated and what appears to be a key ring tied to her body with a short rope through it, then I was picked up by Allen. He held me up and I saw his hands, that was when I said, "Are you a violinist, mister?". He put me down and said, "And how did you figure that out, young man?"

"Your hands, mister." I told him, he looked at me and then turned to my father, "Your children are geniuses, you know that.", to which my father just nodded. "May I look at your violin?" I asked and he grabbed his violin and bow from a nearby table, we spent minutes discussing about the violin when my mother returned with the police. They inspected the body and asked what had happened, after a long talk with the suspects, the chronological goes like this. Thompson, Jacobs and Allen arrived at the crime scene at nine together, they knocked on the door and received no reply, Allen, who was good friends with Miss Hurst for many years happened to have an extra key to the house, thus he unlocked the door and they walked in where nobody was in sight. They suspected that Miss Hurst was still asleep so they put their belongings down and just as they did that, the body of Miss Hurst fell from above, they were shocked and stood there when someone knocked on the door - my father. The bobbies then said, "The murderer must be an outsider, he killed Miss Hurst and dropped her body when the three of you arrived. The blood on the floor are from the body when it fell from a height." Suddenly, I blurted out, "But the blood came from her neck."

The bobbies looked at me and said, "What are you talking about?"

"There's a wound at her neck, sir. There's where the blood is flowing from." I replied. They inspected the body once more and surely enough, found the wound. It was a small hole which seemed to have been stabbed with a sharp object. Sherrinford looked at me and said, "Isn't this interesting, Sherlock? Our first murder case!". Mycroft then stepped in between us, "Let's have a race, shall we?"

"A race?" I inquired.

"Whoever solves this case first wins." Mycroft replied.

"What does the winner get?"

Allen overheard our conversation and broke in, "Winner gets to keep my violin and bow. Interested?"

We got excited, we quickly split to search for clues and such. My father then had a talk with Allen, "What are you thinking, Allen?"

"Come on, they're children, let them have some fun."

"Must I remind you that this is a crime scene?"

"You're right," He called us and said, "remember to tell the police what you have found, boys."

Thompson and Jacobs agreed with my father but they let it be as long as we report everything we found or touch to the bobbies. The three of them were then asked to show the bobbies what they brought with them. Meanwhile, I ran up the stairs and my mother was following me, telling me to be careful and to not mess with anything. I was the youngest, so she had to look after me. One thing I found out from running up the stairs was that this house had a unique design of two hanging beams, the lower one having candles and a sort of wax collector nailed onto it. The hanging beam above had a cleaver stuck to it with a rope tied to its handle, then I followed the rope and found an open window, I looked down and found out that the rope was cut, I also saw a rock on the ground underneath the window. That was when Sherrinford and Mycroft ran towards the rock, both investigating as I looked down on them. Then I looked around the second floor and found no traces of blood, everything was clean, all the other windows were closed. I went down and told the bobbies of the cleaver with a rope stuck on the hanging beam, they quickly went and have a look themselves. I then headed outside and examined the rock, there was a rope tied to it but was cut.

I went back in and saw the belongings of Thompson, Allen and Jacobs on the dining table. Thompson brought in his personal cutleries which contains a knife, a fork and a spoon, he also brought along a napkin which he used to wipe something, it was unclear to me at that time that it was indeed, blood."

"This Thompson is the murderer then?" I suggested.

"Patience, Watson. I have yet to come to the conclusion. Allen only brought in his violin and transitional bow. Jacobs brought in a bottle of champagne and a corkscrew, obviously used to uncork the bottle of champagne. I went up to Thompson and asked him a few questions, I was treated like a 'junior detective' at that point, "Mr. Thompson, where did you place your belongings when you arrived here?" I asked. "Aren't you a cute detective? I put everything I had on that table there." He pointed towards a table by the wall. The table was between two chairs and another table was sitting next to the chair on the right, there were two open windows, each above the respective tables. I asked the same question to both Allen and Jacobs, Jacobs had place his belongings on the table next to Thompson's while Allen placed his on a table on the other side of the room. Above the table where Allen placed his violin and bow, there was yet another open window. I took a look outside all three windows and found that one of them had the rock with the rope tied to it right outside the window, Allen's table. I pondered there for the moment and Allen walked up to me, "Have you solved the case, Sherlock?"

"I have a few ideas, yet some are contradictory."

"I see. You are interested in the violin aren't you?"

"I am, mister. This is also a race between me and my brothers, I must win!"

"Shall I play a tune to motivate you then?"

I turned to him quickly and told him to play his favorite tune.

He smiled at me and picked up his violin, with a deep breath, he played his favorite tune, Bach's Channone, Partita No. 2. As he was playing, I was pleased, my mind was calm. That was when I realized something, something was missing. I rushed outside to the rock, I searched around and found a small piece of broken wood, with a sharp tip."

Holmes sighed deeply, his eyes were distant. He continued, "Upon my discovery, I walked back in the house where Sherrinford and Mycroft were still investigating. My parents looked at me and asked me what was wrong, without hesitation, I declared that I solved the case. Everyone looked at me, the bobbies tried not to laugh, Sherrinford and Mycroft were stunned. Jacobs said, "Oh what are you talking about lad, you must be tired, your imagination is running wild."

Usually I would lie and agree but not this time. "Thompson, Allen and Jacobs arrived at this place at nine but one of them visited this place earlier, the murderer."

"Sherlock, where are your manners, use mister." My mother commanded but I failed to heed that command.

"The murderer killed Miss Hurst in a fashionable way by stabbing her on the neck where the cervical nerves are. This led to her death, the murderer then panicked, he had a key ring tied to the body and hung her at the bottom of the first hanging beam with a rope. He then grabbed a cleaver from the kitchen and tied it to a rock outside and hung it above the rope that was holding the body of Miss Hurst, the rock was heavy so the cleaver wouldn't drop unless the rope was cut or removed. This rock was found outside the house."

"Very funny, lad, if the body was hanging on the hanging beam, the blood would drip to the floor." Jacobs mentioned.

"Constable, when you took the cleaver down from the hanging beam, what was nailed onto the hanging beam under it?"

"It was a candle with a special-designed wax collector." One of them stuttered.

"What are you getting at, Sherlock?" Sherrinford asked.

"Take that wax collector down and you won't find wax in it. You'll find Miss Hurst's blood." I affirmed.

"Who is the murderer then?" My father asked.

"The murderer had to have access to the rope that was tied to the rock so that he could cut it when he came here again, therefore the windows are opened. The weapon was used to accomplish this act, the murder weapon would be a sharp object, like a knife." I asserted.

Everyone looked at Thompson who was puzzled.

"But the murderer at the time did not have any knives near him. He had something else, he stabbed Miss Hurst and cut the rope with the only weapon he had at the time. After his murder, he would not want to be suspected by anybody as the murderer, so he did the only thing a human would do. He made himself look friendly, he made himself look innocent, he made himself known, he tried to talk to children because a children's mind is easy to manipulate, to control. He assumed that this child would protect him when he was pronounced guilty as the murderer, that the child would call him a nice person. That child is me. And the murderer, Allen."

Allen's face was filled with guilt and shame, he then said, "What are you talking about kid? What about the murder weapon?"

"The murder weapon is outside, near the rock. The tip of your transitional bow. I realized it was missing when you played your violin."

Allen was found guilty and was later apprehended, with him in custody, I was in possession of his violin and bow."

I took a deep breath and looked at my companion, it was the only time I have ever seen him so weary. I attempted to comfort him, "Holmes…"

"I'm going to bed, Watson. I'm exhausted." He said as he stood up and walked towards his room. I sat there, contemplating about the story I was told when suddenly there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and found Sherrinford and Mycroft, I greeted them and welcomed them in. "He missed out some features of interest, Dr. Watson." Mycroft mentioned.

"Like what?" I queried.

"Like how he was happy with the man, he smiled as he played Bach's Channone, Partita No. 2. It was the last we saw him that happy." Mycroft reminisced.

"Before Allen was imprisoned, he smiled at Sherlock, telling him that he underestimated him, that he would one day become a great detective." Sherrinford sighed, "Do you know what he told our mother when she asked him how he felt?" Sherrinford directed to me.

"I don't believe I do."

"In his exact words, he said "The nicest of people can be the cruelest of criminals."" Sherrinford uttered. "He became distant afterwards, he would spend days on the violin, having nothing but witty remarks coming out from his mouth. No more "Let's play, Sherrinford" or "Mycroft, let's go outside." He would mock people and blurt out whatever conclusion he came up with his observations, even our parents and us." Said Sherrinford.

"He did improve over the years, I suppose." Mycroft chimed in, "He did learn how to smile again, but only when a murder or mystery happened. He began taking drugs, cocaine, morphine, we would find him dabbling all around Sussex. We got worried and when I decided to move to London, I brought him along. That was the Sherlock you first met, Dr. Watson. Admittedly, he has drastically improved ever since he met you." Mycroft observed. There was a long silent pause after that.

"Dr. Watson, look after him, please." Sherrinford finally said. I nodded my head in agreement and I showed them out. I sat down on my armchair once more and stared into Holmes' armchair, I couldn't help but shed a tear.


End file.
